Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  Joe’s face petrified, eyes wide. He eased his head slightly to the left to see beyond his wife. The man in the suit covered by a white lab coat stood at the other end of the aisle with a tablet device in his hand and a suspicious stare in his eyes. Joe only had a second to come up with an answer. So, he did the only thing he could think of. He told the truth, sort of.

  “Something cut open this shipment, and one of the containers ended up on the floor.” He folded the knife with one hand and returned it to his pocked as he stood, hoping the man hadn’t noticed.

  Helen looked up at him with a glare of death. “What are you doing?” she mouthed to him as she palmed the vial. She quickly closed the container and slipped it back into its place in the stack.

  The man in the suit cocked his head sideways for a second as if contemplating whether or not he should check it out.

  “The contents weren’t damaged,” Joe explained. “But we’re going to need to re-wrap this thing.” He hoped the suit would accept his explanation.

  When the man started walking their direction, Joe felt his heart sink into his stomach. Helen stood up and spun around. He noticed the vial was no longer in her hand and wondered if she had put it back in the container.

  “How did this happen?” the man asked pointedly. His nametag claimed he was Tom Thurmond.

  Helen shrugged and answered. “We aren’t sure. Looks like one of the loaders may have cut the plastic on accident as it passed by. It’s kind of strange, though.” She remained cool while speaking to the threat.

  Tom barely paid any attention to them or the tags that hung around their necks. Instead, he focused on the cut in the shipping plastic. He reached out a soft hand and ran his finger along the edge of the cut.

  “It looks like something sharp did this.” He turned his attention back to Joe and Helen. “You didn’t see how it happened, though?”

  They both shook their heads in tandem.

  He looked back at the opening then surprised both of them by holding out his tablet for Joe to hold. Joe gave a quick nod and grabbed the device.

  “Which one fell out?” he asked pulling back the packaging.

  Helen pointed to the container, which the man immediately began to pry out with a high level of care.

  “You’re sure none of the others fell out or were damaged?”

  “That was the only one we saw,” she clarified.

  The man set the container on top of the stack and cautiously unhooked the clasps. Joe watched with apprehension, wondering what he should do. Thoughts of hitting the guy over the back of the head and making a mad dash for the door ran through his head. But he knew that had almost no chance of working out.

  Tom Thurmond lifted the lid, again revealing the thin fog that emanated from within the little box. A second later the four vials came into view, all in tact in the foam casing, and in perfect condition.

  He lowered the top of the container and locked it back into place before stuffing it back in its place among the others.

  “Looks like the contents are ok,” he said finally, taking his tablet back from Joe. “Glad you two noticed this,” he said in a stern but appreciative tone.

  “Me too,” Joe said, trying to hide his relief.

  “I will go ahead and alert the shipping department to fix this immediately before the send it out.” He began tapping the screen on his tablet and turned to walk away.

  The man was half way down the aisle when Helen and Joe turned the other direction to get out as fast as they could. They’d only taken a few hurried steps when the man’s voice interrupted them again.

  “Oh,” Tom yelled at them.

  They halted instantly and spun around slowly, fearful their identities had come into question.

  “Thanks for finding this.”

  “No problem,” Joe offered with a right-hand salute while Helen just smiled and gave a nod.

  He could feel his wife mentally grabbing his arm to get the heck out of there. The two spun around again and walked casually around the corner of the row of shipments. Once they were out of sight, their feet picked up to a more hurried pace. The other two workers in lab coats were out of sight, but they didn’t want to chance it. Joe hit the button to open the door to the sterilizing chamber and ushered his wife in.

  “I’ll be right behind you.” He let the door close behind her and kept a careful eye on the man name Tom who was currently walking away from the anomaly in the shipping warehouse.

  Joe noticed the robotic loaders had stopped moving about the time Helen had entered the cleansing chamber. He could hear the sound of the jet spray inside and couldn’t help himself from wishing it would go a little faster. He was about to check to see how much longer the thing had when he noticed the two other people in lab coats from earlier round the corner at the other end of the room. They were busily looking through some sheets and talking. But if Helen didn’t get out of the airlock soon, their identities might be compromised. Joe and his wife had been lucky to get away from Tom Thurmond. Joe didn’t feel like pressing his luck again.

  The buzzer sounded from behind him, startling him to the point he almost jumped out of the coat. He whirled around and pressed on the button to open the automatic door. He saw the two people in the lab coats look up and see him enter the chamber, but a quick side glance told him they hadn’t paid him any mind and were back to chatting about something else.

  What seemed like an hour, but was probably thirty seconds later, the other door to the airlock opened and he stepped out while taking off the lab coat. Helen was on the other side, already out of her costume and clearly ready to leave.

  “What about the sample?” he mumbled as he shook off the lab coat, trying not to move his lips, wary of the camera in the corner.

  “Let’s just get out of here,” she replied.

  “But the sample. Millions of lives—”

  “I said let’s go.”

  He had heard that tone for a variety of reasons over the years. Joe knew when to fight a battle and when to let one go. This was one of those times where he had to surrender. He carelessly hung the coat on a hook and followed her down the hallway toward the front of the building.

  A few tense moments later they arrived at the door where the guard was stationed at his desk. Helen pressed a button that would open the door, and the two walked through as casually as possible, desperately attempting not to look like they were trying to escape.

  The young, muscular guard smiled at them as they eased by. They were nearly to the end of the hall when his voice echoed through the corridor, again freezing them in place.

  “Hey stop,” the words sent a chill down Joe’s spine.

  He imagined Helen was experiencing the same sensation, but to look at her face you couldn’t tell. They turned slowly, expecting to see the friendly security guard with a gun in one hand and a radio in the other. Instead, he had a clipboard and a pen as he slowly walked toward them.

  “I’m so sorry,” he apologized in a sheepish tone, “but I forgot to have you guys sign in earlier and I need you to just put your names on here. It’s something they’ve been making us do lately. With all the security they have, I think it’s a little redundant. But you know how big corporations are.”

  Helen let out a long, annoyed sigh. “You know, it really is frustrating,” she sympathized and took the pen from the guy, writing down her name in a left-hand column.

  “Tell me about it,” he remarked as Helen finished and handed the pen to Joe.

  Joe said nothing, afraid his voice would crack. For a moment, he hesitated, trying to remember what the fake name on the ID card said. His fingers began to shake as he nearly panicked.

  A few tension-filled seconds later, the name came to him, and he blew off his moment of trepidation by saying, “Oh, I sign here. I’m sorry. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.” He signed the name quickly and set the pen back down on the clipboard.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your understanding,” the guard smiled and wa
ved, giving Helen one last glance before turning around.

  This time, the both of them didn’t worry about looking like they were in a hurry as they marched down the corridor and out the hall into the foyer.

  When both of their car doors were shut, Joe and Helen let out a deep sigh of relief. She revved the engine to life and wheeled the sedan out of the parking lot and onto the road as quickly as possible.

  “That was too close,” she commented, steering the vehicle onto the interstate, heading south.

  “Yeah,” Joe said, looking back through the rear window of the car as if he were afraid someone was following. “But what are we going to do about the sample? If those shipments get sent, millions, possibly billions of people could die if there is some kind of super virus in those containers.”

  “Sweetie, you don’t need to worry about that,” Helen smiled over at him and merged into one of the middle lanes. She stuck her hand in her suit jacket pocket and removed a small, glass vial. “We got what we needed.”

  His face washed with disbelief. “How did you...but the guy in the warehouse...there were four vials in that container.”

  Her grin widened. “I slipped it in my pocket while I put the container back. Then, when he asked which one it was, I told him the one next to it. Just an old shell game, baby.”

  “Did I tell you, you were good?” Joe laughed. “You are really good. I do okay with bullets flyin’ at me. But all that sneakin’ around stuff is for the birds. About wrecked my nerves just now.”

  “You did fine,” she encouraged. “But we are twenty minutes from the CDC, so hold that vial by its top in front of the vent to keep it cool until we get there. We ain’t out of the woods yet.”

  Chapter 40

  Armenian Mountains

  DeGard helped himself to an empty chair near a stack of cargo boxes and pulled it over to where he’d been standing across from Lindsey. He eased into the seat and folded his hands together while crossing one leg over the other. He peered at his employer expectantly, eagerly awaiting the tale this supposed diary of Sir Francis Drake held.

  Alexander Lindsey’s patience was beyond thin with his French assistant. The man didn’t seem to understand social cues. It shouldn’t have surprised him that DeGard didn’t know when he should stay or leave. All Lindsey had wanted was a few hours of quiet to analyze Drake’s diary and try to figure out the riddles behind the three tests. In the short time he had been studying them, he had not found a solution. Not yet, anyway.

  He wondered if the Frenchman would be able to lend any help on the matter, but he doubted it. DeGard was there mainly for his abilities to interpret ancient languages. And while he certainly had some other talents in terms of historical knowledge, Lindsey didn’t consider DeGard to be a critical thinker when it came to riddles. Still, if by some miracle the man was able to help, it would be worth it.

  “The three tests the alchemist told Drake about were designed to try the three parts of a human being’s makeup. The spiritual, mental, and physical.” Lindsey allowed his voice to trail off at the end of the sentence.

  “So, what are the tests this supposed alchemist spoke of to Drake?”

  “The first one tests a man’s spiritual purity. The alchemist told Sir Francis that only the most righteous may eat from the table of God.”

  DeGard’s eyebrows lowered slightly at the clue. “What does that mean?”

  “I suppose we will have to see when we get there. But in the Bible, it mentions that the meek will inherit the earth. And there are many comparisons to humility and righteousness. Perhaps that is an additional clue.” Lindsey shrugged as he offered the theory.

  “Perhaps,” the Frenchman stuck his thumbnail just inside his lip and bit down on it gently, considering the thought. “But what is the real definition of meek? Some interpretations of that could mean that the people who are mentally disturbed are meek.”

  “I hardly think that is what the verse meant by the word meek,” Lindsey scoffed. “And besides, the notes in the diary clearly say that humility is the key. I’m merely stating there is likely a correlation between the two words, not some other crazy definition.”

  DeGard threw up his hands in surrender. “My apologies. I was merely offering an alternative point of view.” He shut up for a few seconds, just long enough for there to be an awkward silence in the tent before speaking again. “So, what is that supposed to mean, about the righteous eating at the table of God?”

  The older man nudged his spectacles a little closer to the bridge of his nose and proceeded to finger his way through some of the pages of the book until he reached what he was looking for. He turned it around so his archaeologist could read the ancient handwriting.

  At first, DeGard’s eyes were wide as he leaned forward, realizing that the book could indeed have belonged to Sir Francis Drake. Then they narrowed as he tried to read the faint words. After a several seconds, he leaned back in his chair again and pressed an index finger to his temple.

  “The most righteous,” he said to himself. “I suppose that the righteous proceed slowly, without arrogance. They take their time to move and are very calculated.”

  “Or it could be a death trap,” Will interjected from the opposite corner. “And we could all end up dead.”

  Both of the men engaged in the conversation snapped their heads in Will’s direction. He had never lifted his eyes away from the task of cleaning his gun. At present, he was busily running a cleaning tool down the barrel of a handgun.

  “Of course,” Lindsey attempted to ignore the cynical comment. “It must be some kind of test. There is a text in the Bible that mentions that as well. It says to the humble are wise, and the wise stand for the right.”

  DeGard nodded slowly, still uncertain. Lindsey could tell the obnoxious man was a little energized by the riddles, though.

  “What is the next one,” the Frenchman asked.

  Lindsey flipped through a few more pages and stopped again. “The second is titled as the physical test and says that only the strong shall pass through to taste eternal life.”

  “That’s all? I would think there would be something more than just that.”

  Again, the old man turned the book around so DeGard could see for himself. After he read it, the Frenchman moved his hand to his chin to process the new information. He said nothing, simply staring at the floor as he considered the problem.

  “I haven’t been able to figure that one out, either,” Lindsey spoke for both of them. “It is vague, to say the least. But the last clue is even more ambiguous.”

  One last time he flipped through a couple of pages toward the end of the book. He craned his neck slightly to better read the faded words on the page. “This one reads that many shall wander in darkness, but the wise will reach to the heavens and find the path to immortality.”

  DeGard frowned, obviously taken aback by the strange riddles. “Did Drake not ask for a few more clues? This was all he wrote down?”

  Lindsey nodded. “Pretty much. Though, there is one catch that Drake mentions.”

  “Which is?”

  “He says that when one arrives at the entrance to the chamber, there will be three doors, not one. It says that the seeker will not know which test he will face first.”

  “So, the person who finds it will just have to be lucky,” DeGard realized.

  “He goes on to talk about an expedition into the mountains to try and find the entrance to the chamber, but he and his crew got lost. Several of his men died along the way. Eventually, he says they turned back and returned to their ship, and eventually home to England.”

  “So, Francis Drake tried to find Noah’s Ark,” DeGard said in a hushed tone, more to himself than anyone else.

  “It would appear so.”

  The Frenchman still seemed full of doubt. “I still wonder about the authenticity behind this story. He could have been a raving madman by that point in his life. How do you know it isn’t some fairytale told by an old sailor, who had spent
too many years at sea?”

  Lindsey cocked his head to the side like someone who had just won a chess match or proven themselves to be right in a debate. His chin wrinkled slightly as he grinned.

  “Because, at the end of the diary, there is a line I have only seen in one other place on the planet. Immortality is for the righteous.”

  Chapter 41

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Joe and Helen waited patiently by their car in the parking lot of the Center for Disease Control. He had driven by the place on occasion when in the area, but had never gone inside. Something about a place that housed every major disease known to man, and probably some that weren’t disclosed, made him more than a little uncomfortable.

  They had both calmed down somewhat since leaving the Biosure facility, but their nerves were still on high alert. Each time a car entered the parking lot, they perked up and kept a wary eye on it until it had passed by or disappeared in the rows of automobiles.

  Neither of them had said much until five minutes before arriving at the CDC building. Joe had called Dr. Solomon and asked her to meet them in the parking lot. He hadn’t wanted to risk taking the vial inside. And they had already pressed their luck with security a few times that day.

  A woman exited a side door of the enormous gray building and immediately headed their direction. Her sleek, brown hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. She wore a white lab coat, gray slacks, and a badge hanging from one of the front pockets on the coat. Her creamy skin radiated in the afternoon Georgia sunlight. She was a beautiful young woman.

  “That her?” Helen asked as Dr. Solomon weaved her way through the cars.

  “Yep.” Joe nodded slowly.

  Helen seemed confused. “Why hasn’t Sean asked her out? She’s stunning.” It was a rare thing for Helen to offer admiration, and Joe let her know he was shocked with an awkward glance.

  “They’re better as friends,” he commented. “Actually, they’re better as casual acquaintances.” He didn’t say anything else on the topic because the subject of their conversation was nearly in earshot.